


Cold Roads

by Skiddy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Post-Apocalypse, Psychological Trauma, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:35:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skiddy/pseuds/Skiddy
Summary: A major geological climate event caused the earth's temperature to plummet over a few short years, leading to winters spanning most of the year, causing massive rioting and civilisation to crumble in an event known as "The Collapse". A few years later, as the world continues to slowly freeze to death, a small group of survivors treks through what used to be the countryside, attempting to outpace a huge blizzard and find some shelter to hunker down in. Will they have the strength to endure, or will the eternal winter's deathly embrace finally claim them?





	1. Chapter 1

Fresh snow crunched under their feet along the lonely, desolate road and the bare branches of the long-dead trees swayed in the blowing, forceful wind. The four of them were cold, hungry, and tired, their movements slow and sluggish. The group member ahead of all the rest had an aged and weathered face, his dark brown hair and unkempt beard frozen by the cold while his blue parka and boots were covered in dustings of snow. Always keeping a hand close to the hatchet hanging from this belt, he turned and looked back at the dark, looming blizzard on the horizon.

“The blizzard will be upon us by tomorrow afternoon,” he shouted to the rest of the group in a hoarse voice.

There were three others in the group he led. There was Wilfred, an old man in a patchy coat and a beanie, Mary, a relatively young woman with brown hair and a perpetually tired face, and Ellis, a bald man with a short beard, a beige coat and a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“What do you suggest we do?” Mary shouted to Richard, who was ahead of the group.

Richard, thumbing the blade of his hatchet, looked further down the road. He could feel the numbness in his cold feet and the exhaustion in his body that he had pushed to the limit. His coat was worn and old, with some makeshift repairs having been made to it recently, yet snow and piercing cold air continued to seep into it and chill his body further. He could feel his belly ache in hunger, not even being able to remember when he last ate.

“We carry onwards. We need to find shelter before we’re engulfed by the blizzard.”

“And where do you suppose that will be?” Ellis asked, almost mockingly.

“We _will_ find shelter,” Richard sharply stated. “We’ll take what we can get and with some luck there might be a service or petrol station that hasn’t been entirely ransacked yet.”

“And how are we on supplies?” Wilfred shakily asked.

Richard slung the backpack off his shoulders and undid the zip. There were a few cans of food, enough to last them a week or more if rationed correctly. There was also a small handful of energy bars, and a few slices of frozen meat stripped off a deer that Ellis killed over a week back. They had already cooked and eaten most of the meet they’d taken off of it. It wasn’t much food, but it’s not as if the group had always had an abundance of food anyway.

“We’ve got enough to last,” Richard called back to Wilfred, zipping the bag back up.

“Oh,” said Wilfred, “at least we won’t starve.”

“Not yet, anyway,” added Mary.

Not much was said over the next hour. The light had begun to fade as the sky darkened, the howling wind being the only thing keeping the group company. Then, in the distance, Richard vaguely glimpsed some sort of structure, but he couldn’t make out any details at this distance. He looked over to Ellis and pointed at the structure.

“You see that there? We’ll stop to search it.”

“Then I’ll take point, check if there’s anyone skulking about inside.”

When they got close to the structure, it turned out to be a decrepit petrol station. Richard took one of the pumps and squeezed the handle, but nothing came out. Putting it back, he looked at Ellis forcing the door to the petrol station open. He took his rifle off his back and began a sweep of the shop. After a few minutes, the rest of the group heard “Clear” shouted from the inside of the shop.

Following Ellis into the shop, the group began searching around for anything of use. Most of the shelves were bare, however, having already been cleared out long ago. Richard bent over to inspect a lump covered in snow on the floor. Brushing off the dusting of snow, he picked up what turned out to be a can of soup.

“Found a can,” he called out to the group.

“I found some beef jerky,” Mary said.

“I got nothing,” Ellis added.

“Me neither,” Wilfred said.

As Richard went to go check the back of the shop, he tripped on something buried in the snow, faceplanting into the floor. Wilfred extended a hand, hauling him up and patting him on the back.   
“What’s this?” Richard queried as he brushed the snow off the thing he tripped over.

Frozen blood stained its grey coat as it was locked into place by the cold, clutching at its belly. “

“We found a body,” Richard called out.

Mary quickly stepped over and knelt down to feel the body’s neck. She looked up at Richard in silent confirmation.

“How long do you reckon he’s been here for?” Ellis asked.

“It’s difficult to say precisely, as the weather has halted decomposition quite drastically, but a few days, give or take. I’m not quite sure what his cause of death was, but it appears that he suffered a wound to his abdomen sometime before dying. It is likely that a mixture of blood loss and exposure to the elements are what killed him.”

“Does he have a bag or anything?” Wilfred asked.

They all looked about the shop, but only saw empty shelves and a snow-covered floor.

“It doesn’t seem so,” Richard said. “Whoever killed him or found his body first must have taken it.”

They stood there for a moment, looking at the body.

“So,” Ellis spoke up, breaking the silence, “what do we do with the body?”

“What do you mean?” asked Mary.

“Well, I mean it would seem to be a bit of a waste to just leave the body here. We’ve found practically nothing in terms of supplies, and we haven’t got a clue how long it will take us to reach the next town.”

“No,” Richard cut off, “out of the question.”

“And what do you suggest we do when we do run out of food?”

“ _If_ that happens, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. We are not cannibals and our supplies _will_ last.”

“I will trust your word, for now.”

Richard put the food they found in his back and slung it back over his shoulders.

“Let’s get moving. The blizzard won’t wait.”

They continued to walk down the cold, empty road, not a word being uttered. The group hadn’t slept in nearly a day. Richard could feel his body aching to sleep, even nearly falling asleep as he trudged through the snow. But he couldn’t give up, not yet. He couldn’t let himself rest until he was sure the group would be safe. Eventually, however, the group spotted an old bus crashed into a ditch by the side of the road. Richard looked over to Ellis, both of them nodding in confirmation. Ellis jumped down into the ditch and shined a torch through the frost-covered windows. He turned his torch off, pocketing it and giving Richard the thumbs up.

Richard jumped into the ditch after him. Aches spread up his legs at the force of the impact, but he gritted his teeth through the pain and worked to open the door to the bus.

“Gimme a hand here,” he grunted to Ellis.

The latter joined him and after several attempts the two of them forced it open, kicking it to make sure it didn’t close. Richard dipped his head beneath the top of the doorframe, as the snow had buried a large part of the ditch, including the bottom of the doorframe. He took out his own torch and looked around the bus. A lot of the seats on the bus had been ripped out long ago, leaving a large space in the middle of the bus. Shining his light to the driver’s compartment, he spotted a first aid kit above the window of the driver’s seat. It took a few tugs, but he managed to yank it off and open it. There was some bandages, plasters, anti-septic wipes and tape. It wasn’t much, but it would do, he thought.

Just when he was about to leave, he took a second look at the inside of the bus. On second inspection, it wasn’t that bad of a place to sleep. The windows were still intact, so they wouldn’t have to worry about the wind and snow getting inside. There was plenty of floorspace to sleep on and there was a ceiling hatch in the middle of the bus, so they could open that if they wanted to make a fire. He stepped outside the bus gestured the rest of the group to come inside.

“We’ll make camp here for the night,” he said, “I’ll get a fire going.”

The branches blackened in the crackling fire as the smoke escaped through the open hatch in the ceiling. Richard nibbled on some of the beef jerky they found. It was _definitely_ past its best before date, but the snow had preserved it well enough for it to be eaten. Mary and Ellis both had small cups of soup, while Wilfred was chewing on a slice of the deer meat that Richard had cooked for him.

“So,” Wilfred said between a mouthful, “where were you during the Collapse? I was at my second home for a holiday. When it all began I tried contacting my family but… I never was able to find them.”

“I was at work when it began,” Richard said. “Used to work a comfy office job, you see, and one day there was rioting happening in the streets. Of course, the riots never calmed down. One day my workplace war petrol bombed. Barely made it back home in one piece. We tried getting out of the city. The wife didn’t make it. Got swallowed by a mob of rioters. The kids died a year later.”

“I was working in the hospital,” Mary explained in a monotonous voice. “The day it began the ER got flooded with the injured. We couldn’t cope with the influx of people.”

Her face showed no emotion, save for the same tiredness she always had on her face.

“I lost track of how many patients I lost. My hands were slick with blood. There was blood everywhere. I still get nightmares about it.”

Ellis patted her on the back, taking a deep sigh.

“I was a police officer at the time. Got assigned to the riot squads. Ended up getting surrounded by a group of rioters. Didn’t remember much of the next few days after being pulled out by another officer. When I came to, Mary had already saved my life.”

“How you were still alive by the time you were wheeled into the ER still baffles me.”

“Me too. I have you to thank for still being here.”

Mary cracked the smallest of smiles at the comment before taking another sip of her soup.

“I was on my own for nearly a year,” Wilfred said. “Then one day the roof of my house collapsed on top of me. I don’t remember how long I was trapped for, but eventually Richard found me. A few months after that, we met you two.”

“Yeah,” Mary reminisced, “if I recall you two were cornered by a pack of wild dogs. We were on the rooftop above and kicked a ladder down for you.”

“Yeah,” Richard added, “got my leg real good when I was coming up the ladder. Still got the scars from it.”

“You think we will find some shelter tomorrow before the blizzard hits?”

“We’re bound too. We passed a petrol station, so there has to be some sort of settlement nearby. I’m hoping that eventually we can find a place to stay where we will be able to have a steady supply of food. Maybe there’s a farm with some crop seeds left.”

“We can only hope.”

They finished off their food in silence before going to sleep, the howling wind never abating.


	2. Chapter 2

He woke up in a shiver, his body cold to the touch. The small fire they had built for themselves was extinguished, covered in a light coat of snow. He stiffly picked himself up off the floor, his bones clicking and aching. He opened the door of the bus and a strong gust of cold, piercing wind burst through. Taking a few moments to come to his senses, he looked to the sky. Rolling clouds of chaotic, untamed wind and snow were dangerously close, inching ever closer. Richard stepped back inside the bus and shook the rest of the group awake.

“Get up,” he ordered, “the blizzard will be upon us soon. We need to move now.”

The rest of the group groggily rose to their feet, sluggishly gathering their things. Ellis examined his rifle before contently slinging it over his shoulder, while Wilfred rubbed his arms and shuffled along after the rest of the group as they left the bus.

After continuing their way down the road for some time, they eventually spotted an old, frosted over sign by the side of the road. Richard approached the sign and bashed it with the back the head of his hatchet. A large portion of the ice obscuring the sign fell to the ground. The sign beneath the ice was covered in scrapes and dents, leaving a lot of information on the sign having been scraped away. Where the name would have been was a patch of metal scrapes, followed by _reduce speed now and enjoy your stay!_ Richard turned to the rest of the group.

“I was right. We’re nearing a town now.”

“Thank our lucky stars,” smiled Wilfred.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Ellis said, “let’s not celebrate just yet.”

A sigh of relief washed over the group as they continued their march with renewed vigour.

The blizzard continually nipped at their heels as they continued their way down the road until they reached a small, seemingly abandoned town. The windows of the buildings were smashed or cracked, and the streets were empty and desolate.

“Seems like nobody’s home,” Ellis said.

“Maybe we should search the shops here for supplies?” suggested Wilfred.

Richard pondered the suggestion, scratching his chin.

“You and Ellis can search the supermarket while Mary and I try and find some shelter for everyone. That sound good?”

“Fine by me,” Ellis said, slinging the rifle off his shoulder. “Let’s go Wilfred.”

The old man shuffled along after him, keeping a few feet away from him as he attempted to open the rusty old doors of the supermarket open. He tried pulling the handle, but the door didn’t budge. He tried pulling harder, yanking it with all his strength, but his cold and tired body just couldn’t manage it.

“Fuck,” he panted. “It won’t open. And the windows on the door are too small to squeeze through.”   
“Maybe it’s locked?” suggested Wilfred.

“Hmm maybe. Let me take a look.”

He set his rifle down on the ground and stuck his head through the smashed window of the door. There was a cold, metal pipe going through the door handles on the inside of the shop, blocking the door shut. Ellis stuck an arm through the window and pulled the metal bar out, tossing it into the snow.

“Weird, who would bar the door shut? This place is supposed to be abandoned.”

The two of them looked around before Ellis picked his rifle up.

“You go on in and start looking around, I’ll keep an eye out.”

Wilfred did as Ellis said, stepping inside the supermarket, his teeth chattering.

Much like the petrol station, the supermarket didn’t have a lot in it. The familiar scenes of empty shelves and fridges spanned the entirety of the supermarket. He managed to scrounge a couple of cans of beans and a bottle of whisky that somehow hadn’t been taken yet. Pocketing them, he continued his search to the far end of the shop.

But then, he started hearing a strange sound, like a guttural gnawing of some kind. He looked about for the source of the sound, eventually turning a corner and coming upon a man in a purple puffer jacket knelt over something. He couldn’t make out what he was doing, but every so often the man would turn his head and cough violently.

“Are you okay there?” Wilfred instinctively asked. “Are you sick?”

The man turned to Wilfred as fast as lightning. Blood and strands of flesh covered his mouth and his old, blood-stained knife that he held. Wilfred was able to see the thing the man was standing over was a body. The back of its coat was cut open and several stab wounds were visible on its lower back, while strips of flesh had been cut away from his back, arms and legs.

“Oh my,” Wilfred gasped, slowly backing away, “would you like a can? We could search the shop for food together, or I could share what I’ve already got with you. There’s no need for violence here.”

The man, who had short matted hair and a rat-like face, got up off the ground and wiped his face on his sleeve. He tightened his grip on his knife and slowly approached Wilfred.

“There’s no need for violence,” he pleaded, “we can just go our separate ways.”

It was no use, however, as the man grabbed Wilfred by the scruff of the neck and plunged his knife into his abdomen. Fresh, hot blood gushed out of the wound and soaked Wilfred’s coat. The man went in for another attack, but the sight of Ellis rushing toward him, aiming his rifle at him, caused him to release his grip of Wilfred and dash toward the window. He crashed through the glass and slammed into the ground with a loud thud, shards of glass piercing and slashing his body. Ellis, meanwhile, rushed over to the window and took aim of the man. Exhaling, he focused and fired off a shot, hitting the man square in the shoulder as he ran off into the blizzard. He stumbled, nearly falling down, but managed to recover and kept on running, trailing blood as he went.

Ellis cussed and threw his rifle to the ground as he knelt down over Wilfred. The old man, clutching at his wound, was drifting in and out of consciousness, wincing in pain. He put pressure on the wound, trying his best to do what he could to try and save his life. Soon, he glimpsed Richard and Mary rush into the store, looking about for Ellis and Wilfred. Ellis shouted to them, waving in the air to catch their attention.

“Oh god, what happened?” exclaimed Richard as knelt down by Wilfred.

“I don’t know, I only caught a glimpse of what happened. Some freak stabbed the old man and jumped through the window when he saw me coming. Took a shot at him but it wasn’t enough. Last saw him head into the blizzard.”

“Forget him for now,” Richard said, “we need to save Wilfred.”

“Help me pick him up, we need to get him to some shelter before the blizzard arrives. Richard and I spotted an old house on the outskirts of town that looks promising.”

“We’ll handle the old man Ellis,” gesturing to Mary, “just grab your gun and whatever Wilfred scavenged.”

Richard and Mary hauled the old man off the floor and put his arms over their shoulders. Dragging him outside, they saw that the blizzard going to hit them _very_ soon.

“Shit, we need to hurry, now!” Richard yelled.

They tried to drag him faster, but they were still very tired and weak from having little sleep and rationing a lot of their food. Richard could always feel the embrace of sleep calling him, his eyes half shut.

Nearing the outskirts of the town, they all saw the lone wooden house on a hill, with a path leading up to it. However, Richard felt a sudden gust of cold wind blast him in the back. As he turned his head, his face was hit by a stream of raging snow as the blizzard finally caught up to the group. He could barely see beyond a foot in front of him and the cold pierced every layer of his clothing, chilling his body to the bone. His joints became stiff and rigid, making it harder and painful to walk. But he gritted his teeth and pushed himself harder. Using the path as a guide, he and Mary guided themselves to the house, while Ellis held onto Richard’s shoulder as to not get lost in the blizzard. They felt their feet go from the soft snow to hard, sturdy wood. By some miracle, they had reached the house.

The front door, surprisingly, was unlocked and Richard swung it open. He let Mary shoulder Wilfred and ushered Ellis inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. Richard slumped against the door and took a deep breath, his breath visible in the air as he exhaled. It wasn’t much warmer inside, but at least they were out of the blizzard now. His body felt as cold as ice and could feel the blood inside his veins continue to get colder. But at least he was inside.

The front door to the house opened up into the living room of the house. There was a fireplace, two sofas and an armchair. One sofa was on the far side of the living room beneath the window, while another was opposite the fireplace on the left wall and the armchair placed next to it. On the far-right side of the living room there was a doorway that led to the kitchen. There was a doorway to Richard’s right that went into a corridor which also led to the kitchen, while also having a set of stairs on the right side of the corridor that led upstairs. Richard helped Mary carry Wilfred over to the sofa and set him down. Mary took her coat off, unbuttoned Wilfred’s and rolled up his under layers beneath his coat.

“Get me the first aid kit and that bottle of whisky,” she snapped at Richard, who complied.

She poured the whisky over her hands and rubbed them together and shook the droplets off.

“Get me some cloths, rags, towels, anything,” she commanded.

Richard looked around the living room. Nothing. Rushing into the kitchen, he spotted a hand towel on a rail on the counter. Snatching it, he rushed back into the living room and handed it to Mary, who put pressure on Wilfred’s wound. The old man’s face was pale and clammy, and his breaths were getting faster and shorter.

“Shit, he’s going into shock. Lift his legs into the air, it will help his blood circulation.”

“Come on,” Richard pleaded, “don’t die on me yet old man.”

Again, Richard did as Mary instructed and as minutes passed and Wilfred’s breaths became slower and calmer. Mary took the towel off the wound for a moment and the bleeding had slowed down a lot as the wound began to clot. She wiped her forehead with her wrist, as her hands were slick with blood.

“Okay, that’s all I need for now. I’ll do what I can for him with what we got, but things aren’t looking good for him. Why don’t you and Ellis search the house, see what’s about?”

“We will. I’ll shout down to you if we find anything.”

Richard set his backpack down on the other sofa and took off his coat before stepping over to the window. The blizzard raged on outside, never ceasing, never calming. The snow and wind swirled about in the air in an uncontrolled frenzy as the snow level slowly increased further. They were going to be in this house for a while.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard’s footsteps against the hard-wooden floor sounded out throughout the house. The kitchen was small. There was a countertop on the other side of the room as he entered from the corridor and an oven against the bottom right corner of the room. In the middle of the room was a plain, square dining table with 4 chairs around it. In front of one of the chairs on the table was an empty plate, with a knife and a fork on either side of it. The plate was covered in a thin layer of frost and was near stuck to the table.

There was an archway on the right wall that led to a small room. Inside the room were couches on either side of the room and an armchair was sat in between them. On the other side of the room was a dead TV, dustings of frost covering it. Richard was about to go and check upstairs, but then something in the dark of the room caught his eye. There was a sort of shape sat in the chair which was obscured by the darkness. Richard took a few moments, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The shape in the chair was a man, slumped and his arms hanging over both of the armrests of the chair. His skin was pale as snow and his eyes half closed. He was bald on top of his head and wore an old blue sweater. Richard slowly approached and placed a hand on his shoulder. The man’s body was as stiff and rigid as the ice outside and cold to the touch. There was a light coat of snow covering him. And that’s when Richard noticed it.

There was a hole coming out the back of his head, blood and gore spilling down his neck and onto the floor. In his right hand, he loosely clutched a revolver. Richard bent down and grabbed the revolver’s barrel with his one hand and pried the man’s hand open with his other. He opened the chamber of the gun with some effort. There were four bullets in the chamber. One of them had already been fired, presumably by the man in the chair. Richard closed the chamber and stepped out into the kitchen, tossing the gun onto the table.

He began checking the cupboards and draws for supplies. There was nothing but a lone packet of pasta food wise, but there were some old plates, bowls, cutlery and cooking utensils. He reached into the back of the cupboard and retrieved the pasta. Looking down at it, he took a deep sigh before putting it down on the table. His stomach ached in pain with hunger.

As he walked out of the kitchen, he noticed a distinct creaking in a section of the floorboards. He took a step back and put pressure on the section again. This section of floorboards was unusually loose, more than what they should be. Richard Got down on his knees and rapped his knuckles against the floorboards. There was definitely a space beneath this part of the floor. Taking his hatchet, he stuck the blade between the floorboards and pried them out and set them down to the side. One by one, he took them out and eventually uncovered a large metal hatch with a grip built into it. Setting his hatchet aside, he took hold of the grip and heaved the hatch open, mustering all the strength he could. The hatch went to smash to the floor, but Richard caught it, gently putting it down. There was a cold, metal ladder that disappeared into the darkness below. He retrieved his torch and descended down the ladder.

Dust particles crossed through the light of the torch before disappearing into the shadows once again. There were metal shelving units stretching down both sides of the room. Approaching the shelves, Richard shone his light on them. Clean, perfectly preserved cans of food of all types lined the shelves. Peaches, pineapple, meats, beans, sausages, it had everything. There was probably enough food for them for weeks to come. A small smile grew on Richard’s face.

Ellis climbed up the stairs, his rifle in hand. He had hung his coat up on the bannister and wore beneath it a green sweater. He had rolled his sleeves up, which revealed the scars along his arms. Cuts, burns, bullets, he’d seen it all on the force. He was ready for anything, he thought. The air upstairs was just as cold as it was downstairs, and the windows were covered in frost and fog just the same. There were three doors on the right side of the landing and one door on the left side, past the upstairs bannister. The first room on the right side was a bathroom, clean and pristine. There was a single toilet, sink, and a shower bath. Inside the sink was an old straight razor with an old blood stain splattered down the blade. Picking up the razor, he examined it closer, pressing the blade against the palm of his hand. A thin red line appeared, and droplets of blood trickled down his hand and onto the floor. Pocketing the razor, he moved onto the next room.

There was a blue shelving unit against the left wall of the room, stacked with toys, children’s books, and stuffed animals. There was a single bed against the wall beneath the window. On the bed, laying against the pillow, was a single stuffed teddy bear. The bed was big enough for any member of the group to sleep in. Ellis’ heavy footsteps sounded across the room and toward the bed. He lowered his rifle to the side, holding it with one hand. He picked up the teddy and looked down at it, sighing. He never had any kids of his own, nor a wife. He likely never will, he thought.

The third room was rather old fashioned and well decorated. There was a large double bed by the left wall, with nightstands on either side, an old, ornate wooden wardrobe, and shelf with old books lining it. The bedsheets were neatly tucked in and there was not a single crease to be seen. On the one nightstand, there was a picture frame. The picture must have been at least a decade old. In the picture was a couple; a man and a woman who looked to be in their 30s or 40s. Both of them together held a small infant, wrapped up all cosy in thick blankets with the summer sun shining on his face. It felt like a lifetime ago the last time he’d felt the warmth of the summer sun, with soft green grass beneath his feet. He elected to not touch anything in the room, stepping back out and shutting the door behind him.

The fourth room, opposite the final bedroom he came out of, was rather sparsely decorated. There was an old wooden desk with a dead lamp on it, and a single chair. On the desk was a single sheet of paper, which read:

_I’m sorry. I hope I can join you both in whatever afterlife awaits beyond._

Ellis set his gun down on the desk and leaned against the windowsill. He wiped some of the frost away from the window and looked down into the back yard of the house. Partially buried in the snow were two grave marker crosses. He stood there for a few minutes, watching the ceaseless blizzard outside. It was hypnotic, in a way. Beautiful, almost. This was going to be a long storm.

Richard hefted the bag onto the kitchen countertop before closing the hatch behind him. Opening the bag, he looked inside and began taking out some of its contents. It was stuffed to the brim with food from the cellar and weighed a ton. He took out some canned beans, soup, and bread, shifting them to the side before stepping into the living room.

Mary was kneeling on the floor, taking care of Wilfred’s wound. She turned her head to Richard before focusing her attention on Wilfred again.

“I found a body in the lounge,” Richard told her.

She sighed, dipping her head slightly.

“And?” she said.

“Suicide. Found a gun in his hand. Three bullets left in it.”

Mary said nothing, continuing to tend to Wilfred.

“I also found a cellar beneath the kitchen. There’s weeks’ worth of food in it, maybe even longer.”

“That’s something at least,” she said in a dead tone.

There was silence again.

“How is he?” Richard asked.

“He’s asleep, for now. He’ll be out for a good few hours.”

“And his wound?”

“Not much I can do besides what I’ve already done,” she explained, never averting her gaze. “There are no hospitals left. For a wound like this he’d need intensive surgery.”

“You mean–”

“He’s going to die,” she said, cutting him off. “He has a few days at best. This situation is the one I wanted to avoid the most. The best I can do is make the time he has left a bit more comfortable.”

Richard gave no response. There was nothing more to say. His face betrayed no emotion as he stood there, lowering his gaze.

“I’m gonna go bury the body,” he said, putting his coat back on.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary watched the open can of soup bubble above the fire. She had dark bags under her eyes and her mind was exhausted. So tired, she thought, could sleep for eternity. She got up off the sofa and picked up the can of soup with a towel covering her hand. Taking a spoon from her pocket, she stirred the can’s contents, watching the creamy soup swirl and mix. Dipping the spoon into the can, she took a slurp of a full spoonful. A faint smile grew on her face. Tomato had always been her favourite flavour. The soup was piping hot, but tasty. The rich flavour sat on her tongue and was a far-cry from the hard potatoes and stale scraps of food the group had been rationing for much of their journey. She savoured the flavour, knowing she likely wouldn’t taste anything as good for a while once it’s gone.

Wilfred suddenly began violently coughing, with droplets of blood soaking his beard. Mary set down her soup and rushed over to prop him up on the sofa. Ellis and Richard hurried into the room at the sound of Wilfred’s coughing. Wilfred coughed less and less, taking a deep breath when it ended. Then, Wilfred’s eyes began to slowly open.

His gaze wandered about the room, confused for a moment, but he smiled upon recognising the group standing at his side.

“Ah, you’re here,” he grunted, still sleepy and dazed a little. “Where am I? Last thing I remember was that… bad person.”

“We’re in an old house we found,” answered Mary, “Richard found some food to last us until the blizzard passes.”

Wilfred put a hand on his wound and grimaced as he sat up properly.

“Ah, that’s great news to hear! I hope I haven’t been a burden while I was out.”

“Nonsense,” Mary said, “it’s my job to look after you lot, remember?”

Wilfred chuckled, baring through the pain.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he laughed.

“How you holding up?” Ellis asked.

“I could be better, but things could be worse. I prefer to look on the bright side of life.”

“Well, at least one of us is optimistic.”

“Well, I’d prefer to use the term hopeful. Things will be okay, just don’t push yourselves too hard, okay?”

“We’ll try,” Richard responded.

“I remember me in my youth,” Wilfred said, “worked myself to the bone and pushed myself to the limit. It’s funny, thinking back on it now, about how pointless it was to drive myself to an early grave and thinking I was doing the right thing. My point is, don’t push yourselves too hard. Doing so, you’ll only crash and burn and end up blaming yourself further. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. It is the nature of things. Now, is that soup I smell?”

Mary reached back and grabbed her can of soup and handed it to him.

“Here, you need to eat,” she said.

Wilfred happily took the can of soup and began slurping it up. Soup dribbled down his chin and into his beard. He took the can from his lips and his cheeks were puffed up. He looked at the group with a goofy expression on his face. They tried to keep a straight face, but they ended up breaking into howls of laughter. Wilfred swallowed a mouthful of soup and smiled at the group. This was nice, he thought.

Mary woke up to the faint light of the morning just barely shining through the windows. Mary had slept in one of the beds for the first time since arriving at the house. It was the best night’s sleep she “aged floorboards. The stairs creaked as she climbed down them. There was a chill in the air, as the fire had gone out during the night. As she rubbed the sleet from her eyes, she noticed Wilfred was quiet and motionless on the sofa. His body was covered in a thin layer of frost and was stiff, locked in place. He had a peaceful smile on his face.

“Oh Wilfred.”

Richard’s coat billowed in the wind as he dragged Wilfred’s wrapped up body. Setting it down, he retrieved a shovel from the shed and started digging. As he stabbed his shovel into the compacted snow, he saw Ellis exit the house through the front door, wrapped up in his coat, walking to the shed. A few moments later he exited with a shovel and joined Richard in digging. He worked with an angry fervour, shovelling snow and dirt over his shoulder.

“Calm down,” Richard shouted over the roaring blizzard.

“It’s the least I can do,” Ellis replied, not stopping in his digging, “it’s my fault he’s dead.”

“Everyone dies, it’s only a matter of when. There was nothing you could do for him.”

“I was right there, if only I had been on higher alert we wouldn’t be burying him.”   
“Maybe. It doesn’t matter now.”

“How could you be so uncaring?” asked Ellis, stabbing his shovel into the ground. “He’s been part of the group for years, hell, you saved his life before, and now you just don’t care anymore?”

“The point is he’s dead. And the dead are beyond our help. It is not an outcome I ever wanted, but it is the reality of the situation. Right now, we must focus on ourselves. The blizzard won’t make things easier for us.”

“Don’t forget, I won’t stop protecting the group, not even you.”

The pair dug a shallow grave and set their shovels aside. Grabbing the body from each end, they carefully lowered it into the grave. Taking up their shovels once again, they started filling the hole with dirt and snow, their muscles aching and tiring. Patting the grave down, they tossed their shovels into the shed before stumbling back into the house, half-frozen and exhausted.

Mary was sat on the floor, her back to the wall and her gaze fixated on night outside the window. How long until the rest of humanity fell to the cold, she wondered. She folded her arms over her knees and buried her head into them. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything the entire day, not since finding Wilfred dead on the sofa. The floorboards creaked as Ellis sauntered over and sat himself down next to Mary. Nothing was said for a while, until Ellis eventually broke the silence.

“He was a tough one,” he said.

“He was. It wasn’t enough though. If only I could have done better.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed.”

He sighed, holding his head in his hand.   
“Maybe I’m just getting old,” he lamented.

“Perhaps,” Mary added, “we’re just not meant for this world anymore. We struggle against the endless cold, for what? So we can live a few more years in a frozen wasteland. If I knew where we’d end up when this all began, I might not have even bothered trying.”

“I remember, all those years ago back when I was on the front lines, just how scared everyone was. The panic, the terror, the desperation, it drove everyone mad. How hard we fought to try and stop everything from falling over the brink. Seems like a pointless endeavour in retrospect. What did we ever hope to achieve? But then again, what options did we have? I was just an officer, a cog in the machine. I only know how to protect and serve.”

“I only know how to heal others. Maybe I’m not good enough in it.”

“You did the best you could. It was me that failed to save him.”

Suddenly, the handle of the front door began rattling. Several thuds shook the door until it burst open. The fire had burned out, so making out any details was difficult. A figure shrouded in darkness stepped through the door, the blizzard bellowing behind them. They were carrying something heavy under their arm. Their movements were tired and haggard, but had a sense of determination. No, Ellis thought, not this time. His rifle was on the other side of the room. No time, he thought.

Ellis bolted upright and took the straight razor from his pocket. Charging into the stranger, he pinned him against the wall and went to slash his throat, but the stranger socked Ellis in the face and cracked whatever he was holding across his head. Ellis’ vision went blurry for a moment as he collected himself. He couldn’t tell what was happening then, as everything seemed so fuzzy, but he realised that he was no longer holding the razor. Taking the revolver from his belt, he tried shooting the stranger, but the latter was quick to push it away as the two struggled over it. A shot rang out, striking the wall. Ellis and the stranger pulled, punched and kicked each other over control of the gun. Mary ran over and tried to spit the two of them up, but in the chaos another shot rang out and Mary fell to the floor as a patch of red enveloped her abdomen. Ellis’ face turned pale as he watched her fall. His muscles were beginning to give way as the stranger slowly pointed the gun towards Ellis’ head. Then, in a split second, everything went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

Mary watched the open can of soup bubble above the fire. She had dark bags under her eyes and her mind was exhausted. So tired, she thought, could sleep for eternity. She got up off the sofa and picked up the can of soup with a towel covering her hand. Taking a spoon from her pocket, she stirred the can’s contents, watching the creamy soup swirl and mix. Dipping the spoon into the can, she took a slurp of a full spoonful. A faint smile grew on her face. Tomato had always been her favourite flavour. The soup was piping hot, but tasty. The rich flavour sat on her tongue and was a far-cry from the hard potatoes and stale scraps of food the group had been rationing for much of their journey. She savoured the flavour, knowing she likely wouldn’t taste anything as good for a while once it’s gone.

Wilfred suddenly began violently coughing, with droplets of blood soaking his beard. Mary set down her soup and rushed over to prop him up on the sofa. Ellis and Richard hurried into the room at the sound of Wilfred’s coughing. Wilfred coughed less and less, taking a deep breath when it ended. Then, Wilfred’s eyes began to slowly open.

His gaze wandered about the room, confused for a moment, but he smiled upon recognising the group standing at his side.

“Ah, you’re here,” he grunted, still sleepy and dazed a little. “Where am I? Last thing I remember was that… bad person.”

“We’re in an old house we found,” answered Mary, “Richard found some food to last us until the blizzard passes.”

Wilfred put a hand on his wound and grimaced as he sat up properly.

“Ah, that’s great news to hear! I hope I haven’t been a burden while I was out.”

“Nonsense,” Mary said, “it’s my job to look after you lot, remember?”

Wilfred chuckled, baring through the pain.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” he laughed.

“How you holding up?” Ellis asked.

“I could be better, but things could be worse. I prefer to look on the bright side of life.”

“Well, at least one of us is optimistic.”

“Well, I’d prefer to use the term hopeful. Things will be okay, just don’t push yourselves too hard, okay?”

“We’ll try,” Richard responded.

“I remember me in my youth,” Wilfred said, “worked myself to the bone and pushed myself to the limit. It’s funny, thinking back on it now, about how pointless it was to drive myself to an early grave and thinking I was doing the right thing. My point is, don’t push yourselves too hard. Doing so, you’ll only crash and burn and end up blaming yourself further. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. It is the nature of things. Now, is that soup I smell?”

Mary reached back and grabbed her can of soup and handed it to him.

“Here, you need to eat,” she said.

Wilfred happily took the can of soup and began slurping it up. Soup dribbled down his chin and into his beard. He took the can from his lips and his cheeks were puffed up. He looked at the group with a goofy expression on his face. They tried to keep a straight face, but they ended up breaking into howls of laughter. Wilfred swallowed a mouthful of soup and smiled at the group. This was nice, he thought.

Mary woke up to the faint light of the morning just barely shining through the windows. Mary had slept in one of the beds for the first time since arriving at the house. It was the best night’s sleep she “aged floorboards. The stairs creaked as she climbed down them. There was a chill in the air, as the fire had gone out during the night. As she rubbed the sleet from her eyes, she noticed Wilfred was quiet and motionless on the sofa. His body was covered in a thin layer of frost and was stiff, locked in place. He had a peaceful smile on his face.

“Oh Wilfred.”

Richard’s coat billowed in the wind as he dragged Wilfred’s wrapped up body. Setting it down, he retrieved a shovel from the shed and started digging. As he stabbed his shovel into the compacted snow, he saw Ellis exit the house through the front door, wrapped up in his coat, walking to the shed. A few moments later he exited with a shovel and joined Richard in digging. He worked with an angry fervour, shovelling snow and dirt over his shoulder.

“Calm down,” Richard shouted over the roaring blizzard.

“It’s the least I can do,” Ellis replied, not stopping in his digging, “it’s my fault he’s dead.”

“Everyone dies, it’s only a matter of when. There was nothing you could do for him.”

“I was right there, if only I had been on higher alert we wouldn’t be burying him.”   
“Maybe. It doesn’t matter now.”

“How could you be so uncaring?” asked Ellis, stabbing his shovel into the ground. “He’s been part of the group for years, hell, you saved his life before, and now you just don’t care anymore?”

“The point is he’s dead. And the dead are beyond our help. It is not an outcome I ever wanted, but it is the reality of the situation. Right now, we must focus on ourselves. The blizzard won’t make things easier for us.”

“Don’t forget, I won’t stop protecting the group, not even you.”

The pair dug a shallow grave and set their shovels aside. Grabbing the body from each end, they carefully lowered it into the grave. Taking up their shovels once again, they started filling the hole with dirt and snow, their muscles aching and tiring. Patting the grave down, they tossed their shovels into the shed before stumbling back into the house, half-frozen and exhausted.

Mary was sat on the floor, her back to the wall and her gaze fixated on night outside the window. How long until the rest of humanity fell to the cold, she wondered. She folded her arms over her knees and buried her head into them. She hadn’t eaten or drank anything the entire day, not since finding Wilfred dead on the sofa. The floorboards creaked as Ellis sauntered over and sat himself down next to Mary. Nothing was said for a while, until Ellis eventually broke the silence.

“He was a tough one,” he said.

“He was. It wasn’t enough though. If only I could have done better.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed.”

He sighed, holding his head in his hand.   
“Maybe I’m just getting old,” he lamented.

“Perhaps,” Mary added, “we’re just not meant for this world anymore. We struggle against the endless cold, for what? So we can live a few more years in a frozen wasteland. If I knew where we’d end up when this all began, I might not have even bothered trying.”

“I remember, all those years ago back when I was on the front lines, just how scared everyone was. The panic, the terror, the desperation, it drove everyone mad. How hard we fought to try and stop everything from falling over the brink. Seems like a pointless endeavour in retrospect. What did we ever hope to achieve? But then again, what options did we have? I was just an officer, a cog in the machine. I only know how to protect and serve.”

“I only know how to heal others. Maybe I’m not good enough in it.”

“You did the best you could. It was me that failed to save him.”

Suddenly, the handle of the front door began rattling. Several thuds shook the door until it burst open. The fire had burned out, so making out any details was difficult. A figure shrouded in darkness stepped through the door, the blizzard bellowing behind them. They were carrying something heavy under their arm. Their movements were tired and haggard, but had a sense of determination. No, Ellis thought, not this time. His rifle was on the other side of the room. No time, he thought.

Ellis bolted upright and took the straight razor from his pocket. Charging into the stranger, he pinned him against the wall and went to slash his throat, but the stranger socked Ellis in the face and cracked whatever he was holding across his head. Ellis’ vision went blurry for a moment as he collected himself. He couldn’t tell what was happening then, as everything seemed so fuzzy, but he realised that he was no longer holding the razor. Taking the revolver from his belt, he tried shooting the stranger, but the latter was quick to push it away as the two struggled over it. A shot rang out, striking the wall. Ellis and the stranger pulled, punched and kicked each other over control of the gun. Mary ran over and tried to spit the two of them up, but in the chaos another shot rang out and Mary fell to the floor as a patch of red enveloped her abdomen. Ellis’ face turned pale as he watched her fall. His muscles were beginning to give way as the stranger slowly pointed the gun towards Ellis’ head. Then, in a split second, everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

Tucking the chopped firewood under his arm, Richard shut the shed door behind him and trudged his way through the snow across the large front yard towards the house. His face was dreary and tired, not able to sleep at all. Shaking the snow off his feet, he attempted to open the front door, but found that it wouldn’t budge. He shook the handle, but nothing happened, so he resorted to bashing the door with his shoulder. Throwing his body against the wooden door sent pain burning throughout his upper body, but he managed to barge the door open eventually, stepping into the house.

The fire had gone out, leaving the house in darkness. From the darkness rushed a figure shrouded in darkness. They slammed into Richard, pinning him against the wall. They pulled a straight razor on him and went for his throat, but Richard raised his arm to protect his neck. The razor slashed him across the face instead and upon feeling the hot, runny blood pour down his face, he jabbed his attacker in the face and smashed one of the firewood logs across his head. The attacker was dazed for a moment, stumbling, but quickly regained focus and pulled a revolver from his belt.

Richard’s eyes widened and he dropped the firewood to the floor. The attacker aimed the gun at his head, but Richard grabbed the gun and pointed it at the wall. A deafening shot rang out, striking the wooden wall. His ears rang as he struggled for control of the gun, the both of them hitting each other as they tried to force it from each other’s hands. Richard gritted his teeth and fought for control with all his might.

During the chaos and confusion, Mary rushed over and tried splitting the two of them up, but none of them could make out what she was saying. She tried intervening, to take the gun off of them, but then another shot rang out and Mary stumbled backwards, clutching at her abdomen. Blood soaked right through her clothes and dripped onto the floor. Time seemed to slow down for a moment, as Mary fell to the ground. Adrenaline flooded Richard’s body as he suddenly began overpowering the attacker. He turned the gun away from himself and pointed the barrel under his chin. A single shot rang out throughout the house and the attacker’s body fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and began pacing the room.

“Ellis?” he shouted out. “Ellis where are you?”

There was no response.   
“Where is he?” Richard spat.

Then it clicked. No, he thought, it can’t be.

Hesitantly stepping over to the body, he took out his torch and switched it on. Blood pooled beneath his head, with skull fragments and small chunks of brain matter swimming amongst it. His eyes were glossy and wide open, his face with a shocked expression on it. It was Ellis.

Richard stumbled backwards as his breathing grew heavier.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he repeated, “it can’t be, not this. Oh Ellis… why?”

He threw his torch onto the floor in anger, screaming.

“GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

He kicked the back of the sofa in anger until he felt pain.

Taking several deep breaths, he stuck barrel of the revolver in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Nothing. He pulled the trigger again and again and again, but the gun just kept clicking. He threw to the floor as well, screaming in a pained mixture of anger and sorrow. His screams quickly turned into sobs as he fell to his knees on the floor.

Wiping his eyes, he saw that Mary was still alive, but barely conscious. He picked himself up and rushed over to her.

“Come on, stay awake,” he said, shaking her body, “what do I do?”

“Help… help me up,” she grimaced, “and take me into the kitchen.”

He hauled her off the floor and put her arm over his shoulder, helping her into the kitchen. Blood dripped from her wound onto the floor as she gritted her teeth, baring through the pain.

Richard pulled a chair out for her and carefully set her down on it.

“Thank you,” Mary sighed. “My wound is beyond treating, unfortunately. I’m sorry, but there is nothing that you can do for me now.”

“Please, there has to be something that I can-”

“No,” Mary said, cutting him off, “there isn’t. You saw how it was with Wilfred. There’s nothing either of us can do without extensive treatment. I’m beyond saving.”

Richard stood there, silent in his defeat.

“Please, sit with me,” Mary requested, gesturing with a bloody hand.

Richard took out a chair opposite Mary and sad down, both of them looking out of the window.

“What was your family like?” Mary asked gently. “I never had one of my own. Was always too caught up in my work.”

“My wife and I were high school sweethearts,” he said sombrely, “married when turning thirty and had two kids together. They were my everything. I’ll never forget the day I took them hiking for the first time. When we got to the top we had sandwiches and a flask of tea. Played tag and hide and seek with the sun shining down on us. We were exhausted by the end, but it was nice. It was a perfect day. Feels like a lifetime ago now, though.”

“Mmm. I remember my father taking me to the zoo one time when I was a kid. We saw lions, gorillas, penguins, elephants, all sorts of animals.”

She chuckled quietly, cracking a small smile at the memory.

“When we fed the penguins, one of them came right up to the barrier where we were standing and tried jumping over to get the sardines we were feeding them. We laughed so hard when it fell over flat on its back.”

“Hmph.”

Neither of them said anything for a time, the only thing to be heard being the raging blizzard outside.

“You think we ever had a chance?” Mary asked.

“Maybe. Maybe not. We live in a world taking its lasts breaths. There’re no animals left, no crops being grown, hardly any food left. Our luck was bound to run out at some point. We had a good run though.”

“Yeah, we did.”

Mary looked down at her wound and winced at the pain, her top and trousers completely soaked in her blood.

“All those years of fighting to survive,” Richard continued, “to think it would end like this. If only things had turned out different.”

Richard looked over to Mary, who was lying face down at the table, quiet and still.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Her lifeless body was pale and cold at the touch and her eyes closed.

Richard lowered his gaze, sighing, and standing from his chair. Only one option left, he thought. Taking his rucksack, he scooped the cans of food on the kitchen countertop inside it, packing as much as his bag could fit. Going back into the living room, he threw his coat on and did it up as tight as he could, putting his hood up. Making sure his hatchet was secure, he put on his heavy rucksack and marched over to the front door, but stopped, hesitating for a moment. He thought his plan over again. This is my only chance, he thought, I’ll starve or freeze to death in this house before the blizzard passes.

With renewed vigour, he yanked the front door open and slammed it behind him. The blizzard hit him like a cannon almost instantly. The wind smacked him in the chest, driving the air from his lungs, while the cold bit at his face like a thousand knives all at once. The snow and mist were so thick that he couldn’t see anything beyond his own feet.

Steeling himself, he soldiered on, partially covering his face with his one arm. He continued onwards until he felt like he was beyond the yard, but he quickly found it near-impossible to tell where he was going. His footprints in the snow were swiftly blown away as he became disoriented and confused, going in random directions. His body grew tired and weaker, but his mined refused to give in. Despite this, the blizzard kept up its full assault on him, never relenting in the slightest. Richard, dragging his feet through the snow, stumbled and fell to one knee, his breathing becoming heavier and heavier. Can’t stop now, he thought, gritting his teeth. He put his one hand on his knee and just barely picked himself up and continued his march into the unknown.

Having pushed his mind and body to the limit, it slowly began to falter. Breathing became increasingly harder, his skin felt numb, and even walking was becoming a struggle in and of itself. Defiant, yet entirely exhausted, he progressively came to a halt and his legs gave way and he landed on his knees. He pressed his arms into the snow to keep himself from falling onto his front and bit his lip to try and keep himself awake. Not now, he reminded himself, I’ve come too far. He pushed himself upright and looked up at the sky, letting out one last breath before collapsing into the snow, his only witness being the roars of the desolate winds that swept over his body. The blizzard twisted and raged eternally as the world fell silent.


End file.
